Lonely (Horny)
by cautiousAlbatross
Summary: Bro is lonely (horny), so he decides to hire a prostitute. The fact that the prostitute in question is his brother happens to be only a minor hitch.


You wouldn't want to tell Dave, but you've been missing him. Ever since he moved out, went to college and presumably, got a job, he seems to have dropped off of the face of the Earth – at least, when it comes to you. You assume he still talks to some people – maybe those friends of his on the internet – just not you, the brother who was also father and mother and everything he had, or so you thought. It hurts. You hate to admit it, even to yourself, but it does. You're less reluctant to call Dave an ungrateful little shit, and spend quite a lot of time muttering under your breath on that topic. In that respect, you suppose, you're lucky you live alone.

As much as you enjoy solitude, however, it can be a little lonely. Then again, Dave didn't exactly help there, especially when lonely was often a synonym for horny. Now he's gone, though... Well, maybe you can do something about it. You dig through your wallet, and find the phone number of an agency specialising in attractive young men, hired out for especially intimate house calls. Grabbing the phone, you hesitate a moment before dialling – has it really come to this? – then quickly tap out the number and listen impatiently to the dialling tone, tapping out a staccato rhythm on your desk.

"Hello, this is-"

"Some prostitute agency, yeah, I know," you interrupt impatiently, not waiting for them to give a fake title.

"Right. So what can we do for you?" the voice asks, sounding slightly unnerved, and you think his voice is too young for someone working where he does – but then again, what do you know?

"Got anyone available right now? Maybe a young guy. Not too young, though."

"Okay... yes..." you hear him tapping away at a keyboard in the background, and sigh impatiently, "We've got someone, yes. What's the address?"

You tell him your address, then hang up, your stomach feeling like a ball for butterflies. It's a moment before you realise you were too impatient – and too nervous – to ask how much it would be, although you don't particularly care. It's been a long time – too long, really – since you've done this. You don't really want to think about how long, so you stick the TV on and pretend to watch it, waiting for your doorbell to ring.

Fifteen minutes later, it does, and you flick the TV off. Nervously checking your hair in the mirror, then taking your shades of and discarding them on the couch, you head for the door and pull it open. Barely glancing at the guy in the doorway, you turn around and head for the bedroom, waving your hand to tell him to follow. You hear the front door close as you reach your bedroom doorway, and think he's probably put off by your weird behaviour. You wouldn't blame him.

"Come on in, I don't bite," you say, rummaging through what you privately call your sex drawer, "Unless you want me to."

He doesn't say anything, but you hear footsteps – lighter than you expected – crossing the hallway, then pausing in the doorway.

"You talk?" you ask, grabbing a condom and a bottle of lube and chucking them onto the bed before turning around, standing up as you do.

"Uh," he says, and you realise you recognise the shades hiding his eyes, and the scruffy t-shirt he's wearing, and that slouched posture.

It's Dave, and you think you need to sit down. You half-collapse onto the bed, burying your face in your hands, and grit your teeth. He'd better have a bloody good explanation for this.

"Well?" you ask, lowering your hands and looking up, after nearly a minute of awkward silence.

"Well what?" he says, reminding you of the sulky teenager you used to know so well.

"Don't give me that. Explain."

He rubs his eyes, pushing his shades up onto his head, and gives you a pained look.

"I'm waiting."

"Right," he says, sighing heavily, "Can I sit down?"

He sits down next to you, not waiting for an answer, and you stare at him, silently waiting for your explanation.

"Well... It began in college. Just as a way of getting a little extra cash, you know?" he looks at you as if to say 'We've all been there, right?' and you raise one eyebrow at him. "Well, anyway... after college, I didn't really have a job lined up, no plans or whatever, and... Well, I knew I was good at this – they all said I was – and I... I like it, anyway, so... I kept doing it."

You sit in silence for a moment, trying to reconcile 'Dave's old enough to make his own choices' with 'I almost just paid my brother for sex'.

"Right," you say, glancing away from him, "Well... if you're sure that's what you want to do..."

He nods, and you sigh.

"You should have told me."

He nods again. You sit in silence for a moment.

"I think you should go."

"Yeah," he says, then pauses before continuing with a grin, "That's a hundred bucks, then."

"I'm not paying you for telling me you're a prostitute, Dave," you say, shaking your head.

"I'm not leaving 'til you pay me," he says, folding his arms stubbornly.

"And I'm not paying you," you say, laughing.

He pauses for a moment, then turns to you, grinning.

"I could always earn it."

"...You don't have to do that."

You don't tell him that maybe – just _maybe_ – you really want him to do that. You also really _don't_ want him to do anything he doesn't want to do.

"Maybe I want to," he says, and he's leaning in close and whispering in your ear and his hand is resting on your thigh and you're fairly sure you really want this.

"You sure about that?" you ask, turning to face him, one eyebrow raised.

He decides to answer by leaning in and kissing you, his hand coming up to cup your cheek and his lips parting ever so slightly as he sighs softly before he pulls away.

"Yeah," he says, and he's still close enough for you to feel his breath on your lips, "What about you?"

"I'd say... yeah, me too."

He grins before he leans in to kiss you again, shifting so he's sitting in your lap and straddling your hips, and bringing his other hand up and sliding it along your cheek and into your hair. As you wrap your arms around his waist, he nibbles your lip then sighs again, letting your tongue into his mouth and distracting you enough to let him push you backwards onto the bed.

"Hey," you say, as he moves down to kiss your neck, so gently it tickles.

His hands slide down your torso as he kisses under your chin, and then he's pulling your shirt up and pulling away to tug it over your head. When he leans back in, his kisses are rougher and sloppier, all tongue and teeth, and you his as he catches your lip, making it bleed. He just moves to your neck, sucking and biting and you just know he's going to leave you covered in red marks and just the thought is enough to really, really turn you on.

"Ow," you say, as he bites the base of your neck, where it joins onto your shoulder, _hard_.

"Is this not what you wanted?" he asks, sitting up and pulling a wide-eyed, innocent expression.

"Shut up and do it again," you tell him, pulling him down by the front of his t-shirt and nearly ripping it off over his head.

He quickly obliges, biting and kissing along your shoulder as his hands find their way down to the waistband of your pants, where they start to gently toy with your belt buckle.

"So how do you want to do this?" he whispers into your ear, slowly unbuckling your belt.

"How about I show you?" you say, biting back a groan as he tugs on your earlobe with his teeth.

"Mmm," he says, abandoning your belt and sliding his hands up your torso, "Okay."

Pushing him off of you, you sit up, then take his chin gently in one hand and press a soft kiss to his lips.

"You can stop me any time you want," you remind him, cupping his cheek in your hand and tilting his face upwards so he has to look you in the eye.

"I know," he says calmly, not breaking eye contact, and you grin.

"Good," you say, and pull him back in for another, longer kiss.

He takes this as an invitation to return his hands to your pants, and to slowly unbutton and then unzip them. You make a little humming noise as he slides them down your hips, then pull away and take them off completely, pulling your underpants down with them, before coming back to kiss him again, now completely naked. His hand runs up your thigh and dances tauntingly around your erection as he kisses you slowly, as if he's waiting for you to get impatient and take control. You decide not to disappoint him.

"Stop," you say, pulling away, and he does.

"Yeah?"

He has a cocky half-smile, and you can't decide whether you love it or hate it.

"Take off your pants."

He strips quickly, and you're pleased to see he's just as turned on as you are.

"What now?" he asks, shivering slightly in the cool air.

You run one hand up his arm, rubbing it gently, and he laughs.

"I'm fine," he says, answering your unspoken question, "It's just a little chilly."  
You nod, then tell him to turn around.

"Okay," he says, looking back at you over his shoulder, "And...?"

He goes to bend forwards, and you nod. Grinning, he goes down onto his hands and knees, and you lean over to grab the lube and condom you got out earlier. Nudging his legs apart with your knees, you squirt some lube into the palm of your hand, then slide your fingers between his legs.

"Hurry up, I'm not a virgin," he snaps impatiently, as you take your own sweet time slicking him up.

"I'll take as long as I want," you retort, retrieving your hand and slapping his ass, leaving a wet, red mark.

He rocks forwards, slipping onto his elbows and moaning, so you do it again, then wipe your hand on his back and open the condom packet, slipping it on quickly and expertly.

"You ready?" you ask, and he nods, still propped up by his elbows.

You slide into him gently at first, and you're fairly certain he's rolling his eyes. After that, you're not so gentle, and he's not so complacent. Even partially muffled by a pillow, he's loud. Just another thing you like about him. His hand snakes back to jerk himself off as you slam into him, so you brush it away and do the job yourself. He's even louder when he comes, and it's enough to make you come, too – although a lot more quietly. He collapses completely, face buried in the pillow, as you pull out and throw away the condom.

"That'll be a hundred bucks," he says, turning to look at you, and you laugh sharply, rolling your eyes, as you pull your pants on.

"I'm not kidding," he adds, rolling onto his back, and you sigh at the mess he's made, "My job's on the line here."

"Cheeky little shit," you say, pulling on your shirt and shaking your head, "Shower first."

"Fine," he says, sighing and pushing himself onto his feet, "But I'm not leaving 'til you pay me."

"Is that a promise?"

"Double if you want another turn."

"How much to keep you forever?"

"More than you can afford," he says, raising his voice as he turns on the shower, leaving the bathroom door wide open.

"What about a family discount?" you ask, shouting so he can hear you.

"Nope."

"Damn," you say, grinning and heading for the kitchen, "You wanna stay for dinner?"

"Depends what it is."

You pull open the fridge and inspect the contents, most of which – although it isn't much – seems to be getting a little furry.

"Chinese or Indian?" you ask.

"Chinese."

"Cool."

Flopping on the couch, you pull out a take-out menu and search for your favourite dishes. All things considered, this turned out a lot better than you expected. And maybe – just maybe – it's going to be all uphill from here.


End file.
